


Slow to Spontaneity

by Mossyrock



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Fluff, He just doesn't quite get why you can't just propose out of nowhere, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Marriage Proposal, bless his little cotton socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Aziraphale has decided to do something spontaneous for the first time in his existence. He's going to propose to Crowley.Unfortunately, there's just one small, teeny-tiny problem - they aren't even together.





	Slow to Spontaneity

Aziraphale was a determined angel. He’d made a spontaneous decision for once in his eternal existence and he was going to follow through no matter what. He just wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. So, he went to the humans he knew would know more about this than him.

“Anathema, how did Newton propose to you?” 

Anathema, who had been calmly sipping from her cup of tea, almost choked. She recomposed herself quickly, sharing a look with Newt, who was sitting beside her, reading a book on witchcraft.

“You’re going to propose to Crowley?” Her eyebrows had gone so far up her forehead, it looked almost comical.

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. He wasn’t surprised that they knew how he felt about his beloved demon. Anathema, while not at the same level as her ancestor, seemed to just instinctively know things. Aziraphale wasn't sure how witchcraft fit into God's plans, but he decided long ago not to question it. 

Anathema and Newton shared another look, eyebrows dancing as they wordlessly communicated. Aziraphale looked back and forth between them, as if he were at a tennis match – only he didn’t understand the rules or what was happening. They eventually stopped and turned to look at him, wearing identical looks of confusion.

“We weren’t sure you were even dating. Do angels date?”

“We don’t normally. As far as I’m aware, no angel has ever dated before. I would be the first.” He puffed out his chest and let himself feel a little bit proud of that. He knew the other angels would say it’s because he’d been on Earth too long. But he didn’t really care what the other angels thought. He thought – and pardon his French – that they could bugger off. He wasn’t at their beck and call anymore and never would be again.

Crowley had been rubbing off on him.

“But you are dating?” Newton joined the verbal conversation, entirely abandoning his book.

“Not as such,” He admitted, “But we have held hands! And we have dinner and spend time together often. Does that count?”

“It depends. Does Crowley know you’re dating?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never asked.” He was starting to lose confidence. 

“Perhaps you should check with him before you decide to propose out of nowhere?”

It was a wise idea, but Aziraphale wanted to surprise Crowley. After all, Crowley had done so much for him throughout the years. It seemed only right to reciprocate, even if it was a little late.

Maybe it wasn't Crowley going too fast, but him going too slow. He didn't want to keep Crowley waiting any longer.

“You don’t think it would be a nice surprise?” He knew he was pouting, but he hadn't thought his idea had been _that_ bad. 

“Maybe… But most couples tend to date for a while before they get engaged. Usually for at least a few years.”

“But we’ve known each other since the beginning of the world,” He objected. 

“You know Crowley better than we do. If you think he’d be happy, then do it.” Newton shrugged and Anathema nodded along with him.

“We’re happy for you,” Anathema added, patting his hand. She was giving him a reassuring smile, but he couldn’t help feeling that they were still skeptical.

* * *

Aziraphale left Jasmine Cottage feeling somewhat deflated. Maybe he shouldn’t be spontaneous. Maybe it just wasn’t something he was good at. Or maybe he should work his way up to proposing. It might be too much too soon, for his first spontaneous act.

They were right, after all. They were just trying to help and they had a point. He knew Crowley loved him too, not that he’d said as much. He said it through his actions and that had been enough. He’d always done so much for Aziraphale, saving him from being discorporated, helping him with little miracles here and there. And saving the books from the blitz. It wasn’t the first selfless thing Crowley had done for him, but it was the first time Aziraphale had really realised it – and the implications.

It had taken him another few decades before he came to fully understand and accept what it all meant.

They hadn’t ever really labelled their relationship. For a start, it had been too dangerous when they were adversaries. Then they were busy preventing the end of the world. Since then, they’d just been relieved to be free of their respective oppressive head offices and happy to continue as always. There was no need to change the status quo after six thousand years, was there? 

But Aziraphale thought that it was about time they made it official. He wanted to be able to tell Crowley that he loved him. He wanted everyone to see them together and know, rather than just suspect, that they’re in love. And if Heaven and Hell had an issue with it, they’d just have to deal with it.

Aziraphale had become a significantly less angelic angel since the end-of-the-world-that-wasn’t. Almost being executed tended to make a being bitter – even a usually forgiving angel. There were some things even Aziraphale couldn't forgive. Trying to roast him was top of the list. 

So, he would take Anathema and Newton’s advice and wait. He’d plant the seeds of something and hope that Crowley was receptive to the idea of taking their relationship – whatever it was – to the next level.

* * *

The next time he saw Crowley was when they met in St James’s Park one sunny Wednesday. Crowley was early for once, beating Aziraphale to their favourite bench. He was sprawled out, lounging in the mid-afternoon sun like a serpent on a hot rock. It set his red hair off quite nicely, Aziraphale thought. It glowed in the rays, almost as if it were actually on fire.

He truly was beautiful.

He looked up as Aziraphale approached, giving him a genuine smile – the kind that had been almost non-existent before the Armageddont. Aziraphale wasn’t the only one who’d changed since then, it seemed.

“Hey, angel,” He greeted lazily, scooting up the bench to make room for him.

“Hello, my dear.” Aziraphale sat. Crowley’s arm rested behind him on the bench and he resisted leaning back to lay his head on it or grab it to hold or something equally as ridiculous, “I was thinking we could have dinner tonight? Somewhere new?”

Crowley hummed his affirmative reply.

Aziraphale smiled and gave a little wiggle, glad that Crowley was still happy to spend time with him. It was a good sign.

His plan was, he’d take Crowley out somewhere fancy, dress a little bit nicer than usual and make it a wonderful date.

A date! He’d never been on a date before. He was rather excited and ever so slightly nervous. He'd seen humans engage in dating since the beginning and he thought he understood the theory. It was the practice he wasn't so sure on. Should he buy Crowley flowers? Would that be too much? Crowley had bought him flowers when he’d opened the shop, so maybe it wasn’t necessarily going to be taken as a romantic gesture. But it might just be nice to do, especially given Crowley's fondness for flora. 

Either way, once they were busy having a wonderful evening, Aziraphale could casually slip the fact that he loved him somewhere into the conversation. Once that was done, he could proceed with his original plan – propose to Crowley.

Easy. Simple.

How could it possibly go wrong?

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Crowley cocked his head and was clearly watching Aziraphale from behind his glasses.

“Like what?” He asked innocently, trying to smother the smile on his face, not wanting to give anything away just yet and spoil the surprise. But try as he might, the grin kept creeping back. He was just too excited. 

“Like you just miracled a child to safety.” That was a bit rich, coming from Crowley, who had always had a soft spot for kids – as much as he tried to hide it.

Warlock had loved his nanny. And his nanny had loved him. It’d melted Aziraphale’s heart like ice-cream on a summer day to see it.

“Nothing. It’s just a lovely, sunny day. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say, angel.” Crowley shrugged and turned away and turning his face upwards, to bask in the sun again.

Aziraphale watched him surreptitiously, enjoying seeing Crowley so carefree. It made a nice change. Crowley had always pretended to be cool, calm and collected, but Aziraphale knew the truth. It was nice to see the weight removed from his shoulders and allow himself to be at ease. 

They sat in silence, watching people come and go and the ducks waddling around, looking for scraps of food left behind by careless humans.

It was nice. Companionable.

“Did you want to go for a walk?” Crowley broke the silence. Aziraphale had almost thought he’d fallen asleep, he’d been so still and quiet.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

They wandered down by the river, following the path, silently weaving between wandering couples. Eventually, Crowley came to a stop at the place where over a hundred years ago they'd fought. It'd been their first real falling out, but unfortunately not the last. The memory of their argument still caused a twinge of so many emotions to hit Aziraphale. He couldn’t imagine living without Crowley, even back then. And it had made him angry and hurt that Crowley would ever consider leaving him - though he hadn’t really understood the feeling at the time.

But Aziraphale had eventually caved in and given him the holy water. It had taken a lot of time and reflection. And trust. He’d trusted Crowley to use it to protect – not hurt – himself. He was immeasurably glad Crowley had proven his faith in him well founded.

But the guilt of the fight was still heavy on his mind.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” He saw Crowley look at him, taken aback. It wasn’t often they expressed any kind of emotion toward each other that wasn’t hidden behind layers of deflection and double meanings.

“Why?”

“What I said, about the favour you asked for –” He was cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, angel.” He flapped his right hand around, as if shooing the very idea of an apology away. His nose was wrinkled, like he was smelling something incredibly foul and repugnant.

It didn’t fill Aziraphale with confidence regarding confessing other feelings.

“But –”

Crowley kept talking over him as if Aziraphale hadn’t uttered a single syllable.

“You didn’t trust me. Fair enough. It’d be wrong for an angel to trust a demon, wouldn’t it?” It should’ve been a rhetorical question, but Aziraphale heard the very real vulnerability underneath.

“But I do!” He raised his voice. He realised he’d drawn the attention of several passers-by, who shot him concerned looks, so lowered his voice again to add, “I do trust you,” He said as earnestly as possible.

“Now, sure. But I used it to save myself, like I said I would. It’s easy to trust after the fact.” Crowley shrugged and looked away. Aziraphale sighed heavily.

“I trusted you before I gave it to you. I was just scared, you silly serpent.”

“Scared? Of what?”

Aziraphale hesitated. It was now or never. He’d planned to wait. He’d planned to introduce the idea of being in love with him slowly, preferably over a slice of delicious cake and a glass of expensive wine. But now was as good a time as any.

“Scared of losing you.”

Crowley looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

Aziraphale carefully lowered himself onto one knee – trying not to wince as the gravel poked painfully at his kneecap, before miracling a small cushion underneath. He miracled the small black velvet box from his desk drawer to his hand, shakily opening it to reveal a modest, but beautifully carved ring. It was platinum, delicately made to look like wings. Where the wings met, a light blue diamond sat. An identical ring, with a yellow diamond instead of a blue, sat in another box in the drawer. The yellow was carefully chosen to match the gold of Crowley’s eyes – as the blue matched Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and looked up at Crowley, who had frozen, not even keeping up the pretence of breathing.

“Will you marry me?”

“Ahhh… Wha..?” Crowley replied.

“Will you marry me?” He asked again, making sure to be as clear as possible, just in case Crowley hadn’t understood the question the first time. He did seem very confused. Aziraphale gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he suspected actually looked incredibly nervous.

“But we’re not even dating.” He sounded choked and even though his eyes were hidden behind his glasses, Aziraphale could imagine them bulging, wide and confused.

Overall, the proposal wasn’t quite going how he’d hoped it would. Maybe he should’ve listened to Anathema and Newton and delayed slightly. But it was too late now.

Aziraphale glanced around and realised they had gathered rather a large crowd. Several women were clutching their chests and smiling encouragingly, a few couples had stopped, one woman pointedly elbowing her partner, the others all watching on hopefully. Even a few secret service agents had stopped to watch. One small miracle later, they were completely alone again, the crowd all suddenly remembering important errands that needed to be run immediately.

“Not technically, I suppose…” He trailed off. Crowley was still staring at him dumbly. A few more seconds ticked by before Aziraphale cleared his throat and tried again, “While we may not be dating, per se, you are the being that I want to spend the rest of eternity with. You are the person I want to spend every day with, whether we’re saving the world or spending time together in my shop, or your apartment. I love you and I very much hope you love me too… Don’t you?” He asked, perhaps a little too late. Maybe he should have led with that.

Crowley swayed slightly on his feet before taking a deep breath and righting himself. He shook his head and blinked, pulling himself out of his stupor.

“Of course, I love you, you stupid angel.” Crowley scoffed and threw his hands up in exasperation. Aziraphale chose not to be offended by the insult. He knew Crowley didn’t really mean it.

“Oh, well, that’s good. But will you marry me?” He asked a third time. The kneeling was becoming very uncomfortable, even with his little cushion. He considered standing up again, but it didn’t seem right until he’d received an answer one way or the other.

“Yes. I will engage in the completely unnecessary human tradition of matrimony with you,” He grumbled. But it lacked any real grumpiness. Aziraphale could see the beginnings of a smile lurking cautiously at the corner of Crowley’s mouth, ready to emerge at any second.

Aziraphale beamed. He felt like he could fly. Which he literally could, what with being an angel and all. But this was a certain lightness that he’d never experienced before. He felt happier and more loved than he ever had in Heaven. This was truly divine.

He hadn’t really thought about how much loving Crowley in secret had weighed him down.

He stood, willing away all the aches and pains as he stood in front of his fiancé. That word was going to take some getting used to, but Aziraphale was only too happy to practice. Fiancé… He liked the sound of that.

Crowley was smiling down at him. He’d taken off his glasses and was watching Aziraphale with such soft, loving eyes that Aziraphale wondered how he hadn’t noticed it centuries earlier. But he realised now and was going to make the most of it for the rest of their existences.

Aziraphale took the ring out of its box and looked at the demon expectantly. Crowley held out his hand with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, but it couldn’t dampen Aziraphale’s spirit. He was going to perform every cheesy tradition he could.

The ring fit perfectly – with a little miracle – and he smiled up at Crowley, ready to step away and resume their normal day out, when he was suddenly being embraced tightly. His face was smooshed into a bony shoulder, but after a moment of adjustment, he’d rested his head more comfortably into the crook of Crowley’s neck. They’d never hugged before. They’d been friends for more than 6 millennia, and they had never done more than hold hands once. Which they had carefully never discussed again.

It was a cliché, but they fit so well together. It should’ve felt like hugging a telephone pole, but Crowley was deceptively cuddly and being surrounded by Crowley’s warmth and the familiar smell of him made Aziraphale feel like he was home.

They eventually separated, but Aziraphale didn’t let him go without a peck on the cheek. Crowley’s hair burst into flames, which matched the red of his cheeks. Aziraphale couldn’t help but giggle as Crowley rushed to put the fire out, restoring his hair to its normal and flame-free fiery red. He glared at Aziraphale, as if it was his fault that he'd become so flustered that he'd spontaneously combusted, but the glare didnt last in the face of the overwhelming happiness of finally being able to be together. 

Maybe Aziraphale’d skipped a few steps of the courting process, but when the result was walking through the park hand in hand with his fiancé, matching rings on their fingers, he couldn’t really care less.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this from an old Marvel fic I read years ago called "How to marry Steve Rogers" by superangsty. I couldn't help but borrow the idea and make it about my two favourite ineffable idiots.
> 
> It's just a silly piece of nonsense.
> 
> As usual, I have no beta, so any mistakes, let a sister know.


End file.
